11. Chapter 10
Chapter 10
Keaton
A drink. I needed a drink.
I threw my keys on the dresser next to the garage door and went straight to the three-tier bar cart in the living room. After pouring myself a double Lincoln Grady—the Family Reserve—and taking a swig, I crossed the wool carpet and sank down on one of the couches. The dark leather squeaked under me as I leaned forward and propped my elbows on my knees. I stared at the framed jersey signed by the Darkwater Destroyers, my favorite baseball team, hanging above the fireplace. What a rotten day. As soon as I took over LGD, I would kick out some of the board members. We didn’t pay them to complain. Not that it was a dictatorship, but taking the helm meant I owned a significant portion of the shares—which very well entitled me to make some much-needed changes.
I loosened my tie and undid the top three buttons of my shirt, then leaned my head back and closed my eyes. Maybe I needed a vacation. Except I hadn’t taken a vacation once since I’d started working for LGD at age fifteen. What would I even do? Go where?
“Hey, Keaton.”
I jerked, spilling whiskey over my hand and slacks. Cursing, I held the glass away from me. As if that would change anything.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I looked up at Layne. She was standing at the foot of the stairs, clinging to the banister, eyes wide. I’d totally forgotten that she was here. That she’d moved in today. Guess I’d have to get used to having someone around after years of living by myself. My suite in Glam City was for parties and “guests,” but this here was my sanctuary. Even Delilah had only been here twice.
“No worries.” I stood, set the glass on the oak coffee table, and wiped my hand on my pants. “Are you a ninja? Didn’t hear you come downstairs.”
The laugh Layne gave sounded nervous. “Sorry, I really didn’t mean to.”
Apparently “sorry” was her favorite word.
I sized her up. She wore sweatpants and a hoodie, her dark brown hair in a low ponytail. The blouse she’d worn today at our wedding ceremony must have been an exception.
“Like I said, no worries.” I shoved my hands into the pockets of my slacks, feeling the soaked fabric come off my leg. “The pants have to be dry-cleaned anyway.”
Her gaze flickered to my legs and the wool rug, then back up to me. “Where are the rags and cleaning supplies? I think you spilled some on the rug.”
“The housekeepers will take care of it.”
She stared at me. Blinked. Had she seriously thought I cleaned this mansion myself? Not that cleaning was beneath me, but I preferred spending the little free time I had working out, playing baseball, or hanging out with Xav and Dalton.
When she didn’t say anything, I spread my arms. “Welcome home. Feel free to do whatever you want and take what you need.”
Layne bit her lower lip. “Thank you, that’s very generous of you.” She looked around. “You have a beautiful home.”
“What’s mine is yours.”
She studied me silently. Then she hiked a thumb over her shoulder. “I’m going to go lie down.”
About to nod, something hit me. “Tomorrow afternoon we have a funeral.”
Layne knitted her brows. “Funeral?”
“Yes, Uncle Marten died a couple days ago.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry for your loss.” Genuine sympathy took over her features.
“That makes one of us.” I ignored her consternation. “My parents want to meet you afterward.”
Layne inhaled deeply. Nodded. “Okay. Do I have to wear anything specific?”
“A dress would be nice.”
“Okay, no problem.” Her tone said it was one.
“Don’t worry, the funeral will be short, and we won’t stay long after that. A half hour max.” Staying longer was torture. I hated family gatherings because they always ended in drama. Or with the cops crashing the party.
Layne’s face lit up with a smile, as if a huge weight had just been lifted off her shoulders. “Good.”
After she’d gone to her room, I poured myself a fresh drink and sat back down on the couch. I was looking forward to seeing her in a dress. And then my family’s reaction to my new wife, especially Regina’s. Her hair would be going gray faster than she could blink.